


Tourniquet

by Miss_Mil



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s03e21 Before and After, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/pseuds/Miss_Mil
Summary: Once, out there, in a possible future seen by Kes, Chakotay was the Captain.





	Tourniquet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nathalys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathalys/gifts).



> a/n: Watching 'Before and After', it occurred to me that we get to see Chakotay as the Captain. Naturally, this doesn't sit well for our command team.

* * *

The dinner was not unusual.

Their work-related conversation was also not unusual.

They had long-since settled into a routine of comfortable dinners under the pretence of work, studiously avoiding any topic that was likely to stray into dangerous territory.

They’d also started to avoid sitting on the same couch. Instead, he preferred to sit opposite her.

It gave him some semblance of control.

But, the way Kathryn Janeway sat, slouched on his couch staring out at the stars with a rather full coffee cup in her hand was extremely unusual. He got the feeling something was weighing heavily on her mind, and had been for some time.

She’d been a little pensive after Kes. He could almost pinpoint the moment that the very thought struck her, and refused to leave her alone.

_What had the Ocampan seen in the future?_

In a way, Chakotay had expected her to seek him out. Her voice broached the silence.

‘I had an interesting conversation with Kes today,’ she said quietly, flicking her fingers against the coffee cup in her hand.

The steam rose in elegant swirls from the cup, evaporating swiftly. He watched them, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Given how long they had been sitting in silence, he was surprised it was still warm.

‘Oh?’ he asked, cradling his own tepid mug of tea.

‘She told me how she had travelled backward through time,’ she said casually.

Chakotay hummed his affirmation. ‘I’d heard.’

There was a burning intensity to her statement, and he guessed she was barely managing to supress it. She’d been stewing on it all day, waiting impatiently to discuss with him within the thin veil of their weekly dinner.

Sometimes, the scientist in her was hard to ignore.

The woman underneath was even harder to ignore.  

But, he seriously doubted that the _scientific_ side of Kes’ adventure was what had gotten her so riled.

Her eyes glanced up, blue shining brightly in the dimly lit room. The flickering candles were left on the table among the remnants of their dinner, the dull warmth highlighting the planes of her face.

The light settled in the hollows of her cheeks, and feathered the strong lines of her jaw.

‘Don’t you think that it is fascinating?’ she asked, her words intended to provoke conversation on his part. The light flush of excitement touched over her cheeks as she looked at him with youthful elation.

She was holding back. He’d never known to avoid a topic before.

Except perhaps when it came to _them._

His head inclined slightly toward her. ‘Maybe.’

Her eyebrows raised at the surprising indifference he pushed out in a single word.

He cleared this throat, and gulped down the final mouthful of tea, the cold liquid making him frown slightly. ‘Maybe, it is better to remember that the future Kes saw might not eventuate.’

Humming in quiet agreement, she tilted her head back; the barrette in her hair thumping quietly on the window behind her. A breathy laugh escaped as she sighed. ‘Always my voice of reason, Chakotay.’

Stretching out his legs in front of him, he shifted; his knee cracked as he placed it on the coffee table. The sound was stark in the otherwise silent room.

He watched as her eyes slipped closed, and the corners of her mouth quirked in an attempt to cover her smile.

‘Getting old, Commander?’

He scoffed, feigning offence. ‘Hardly, Kathryn.’

His words were soft, and he couldn’t help but insist on a subtle undertone of flirtatiousness. The way the understated blush moved about her skin in the starlight was enchanting.

Janeway sat up quickly, and glanced down, surveying the contents of her cup - that he was sure to now be empty – with intense focus. Her words were light.

‘Kes referred to you as _Captain_ Chakotay.’

His interests piqued, and he looked at her, tracing her profile; committing it to memory for the thousandth time. ‘Maybe, I finally phasered that apple off your head,’ he said with an air of humour, hoping it covered up the unease rising in his chest.

She threw back her head, with a throaty laugh. ‘Maybe!’

He could feel the humour leaving the air between them, as they considered the _real_ reason for his new title. The possibilities were endless, and he wasn’t sure he could fully grasp them all.

Or, that he wanted to.

The candlelight was fading, the wick burned low and dull. The starlight flickered on the walls around them, and the usually vibrant blanket stretched out on Kathryn’s lap looked a faded red.

A smile tickled at the corner of his mouth; the way she’d claimed something close to him so naturally warmed him inside. One day, it would end up in her quarters.

And, he wouldn’t miss it at all.

The darkness settled over the room.

‘Maybe,’ she whispered. ‘We made it home.’

He knew without a doubt, that Kathryn had the urge to ask Kes exactly what she had seen. It was overwhelming, and almost consuming her in the moments her stared at her.

She _needed_ so desperately to know what was in store for them. Them, _Voyager_ , and their journey.

But, he didn’t.

And, he never would.

‘Maybe we did,’ he conceded.

Her eyes found his again; she quirked an eyebrow. ‘You made Captain.’

He chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully, then shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You probably made Admiral.’

The corners of her mouth rose in a small smile, her eyes never leaving his. ‘It isn’t a contest.’

The empty mug in his hand felt heavy as he raised it up, saluting her in an almost flippant way that he would never dare do on her bridge.

‘Touché,’ he said. ‘But, I probably got your ship.’

‘Maybe you took it from me,’ Janeway deadpanned.

‘Maybe, or you gave it willingly,’ he fired back, arching an eyebrow and eyeing her over the empty mug in his hand.

He could see the way she wanted to squirm under his heated stare. The inferences in his words were hard to hide, just as the line between them was becoming increasingly blurry.

Her eyes bored into his, the expanse of the coffee table between them doing little to quell the rising attraction. He watched as her tongue came out, tracing a lower lip almost subconsciously before being pulled between her teeth.

She leant forward, slowly, deliberately placing the coffee mug down on the table with a resounding thud.

The blanket fell a little from her lap.

Suddenly, _he_ felt the need to squirm.

She leant back, adjusting the blanket ever so slightly without moving her eyes from his face. Her eyes blinked, once, then twice, and she turned her head away.

Eyelashes fluttered over her pale skin.

Elegant fingers smoothed the fabric on her lap, tracing the patterns mindlessly, like she knew them intimately. The way her fingers graced the woven threads so gently fascinated him, and he thought of those same fingers grazing the tattoo on his forehead, wondering if he’d ever know what it was like to have her touch his skin without hesitation.

‘I find it fascinating,’ she started, gazing out the window again, but this time without really seeing the passing stars. ‘To know that there are so many futures out there, and we can’t possibly predict them all.’

He shrugged, answering slowly. ‘They do say, the future is what we make it.’

She murmured back something he didn’t understand, still facing away from him and he couldn’t decide if she was falling asleep, or just caught up in her own thoughts. His own thoughts were becoming hard to ignore.  

The starlight was dull, fading in and out like the beacons he’d seen in old records, placed high on cliffs and outcrops, that brought sea-faring ships home to rest ashore.

They lapsed into silence. The minutes ticked by, and he wasn’t sure when he stopped feeling tense and started to relax to the point that his mug slipped from his grasp.

The thud on the carpet startled him, and he looked up sharply to find Kathryn perched on the edge of the coffee table, peering at him with guarded eyes. The blanket was around her shoulders.

He could see the patterns clearly now; Native American whirls and ridges that indicated things to the tribes that once wove them. He wondered why she had claimed it as hers, or why he had never noticed before that it was one of the final steps in claiming his heart.

He sat up a little straighter, his legs falling off the table beside her and hitting the floor.

Her mouth pinched, and she ground out four tight words that had been on the tip of her tongue ever since the conversation had started.

‘Would you, do it?’

He could ask her exactly what she meant; what the four words meant to _them,_ here and now in this room. But, he didn’t have to. He knew instinctively that she was asking the question the two of them had avoiding addressing ever since this _thing_ between them had become more than just a passing addiction.

The possibility of her death was something they’d avoid discussing over the years. But, it was becoming hard to ignore.

It was starting to define them, and sooner or later it was going to define their decisions.

Decisions that could end a life.

And, finally, she had the courage to ask. To bring it out, here in his quarters where they had avoided so many personal discussions.

The question hung in the air, and he knew without premise what she wanted to hear. What she _needed_ to hear. It was the same question that haunted his dreams. And, it permeated every fibre of his being each day when he sat next to her on the bridge, hoping to hell whatever species they met next weren’t going to be the ones that would end _her_ life.

Or face him to make _that_ order where he would have to say goodbye.

‘Yes.’

His answer was simple, and he could see the palpable relief on her features in the pale light.

Eyes found his own in the darkness; the bright blue from their banter before now faded to an eerie grey that reflect her inner turmoil. He watched her carefully for a moment, searching her features for _any_ sign of _something._

To know what she was thinking, feeling.

And, then he saw it.

That unbridled fear that ran within Kathryn, that hid away whenever the Captain was in control, and her discomfort with the realisation that in times like this, she just _couldn’t_ control it.

He chose his words carefully, punctuating them clearly and leaving no room for misinterpretation.

‘I’d do it,’ he said. ‘Because, I’d have to.’

The tops of her brow creased in silent understanding. He watched her as she swallowed down that urge to press herself to him, to feel that he was real and so was she.

To have that reassurance that everything was going to be alright. That _they_ would survive whatever was thrown at them.

Sometimes, he wondered who was going lighten the burdens between them.

Her hands grabbed the blanket from her shoulders, and she toyed with the frayed edges. Standing up slowly, she titled her head to ease what must be a growing pain somewhere.

The blanket was placed quietly, in his lap and perfectly folded. Her eyes watched him for a silent moment, before she nodded tersely.

The muscles in her slim throat moved as she swallowed thickly.

‘Good’, she whispered.

He listened to the quiet footsteps as they headed toward his door.

He stayed in the chair long after she had left, fingers tracing the patterns on the blanket that she had touched just before. He held it to his chest, and breathed deeply, clearing his thoughts desperately if only so he wouldn’t see the future Kes had described in his dreams.

At least, not tonight.

The muscles in his back and shoulders hurt from sitting for so long. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

The fabric was smooth, and comforting in his hands.

It smelled just like Kathryn.

And, it would keep him grounded for the next years of their journey.

It reminded him that one day he might very well _have_ to make the rest of this journey without her. The realisation was strong in his mind.

He’d do it because he would promise her; holding her hand tightly as she struggled to voice her request before the darkness took her away.

He’d captain her ship without her, because he was never capable of refusing her.   

* * *

_“Will you be on the other side; or will you forget me?” – Evanescence: ‘Tourniquet’ [Playlist]._

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: A birthday fic for my bestie, and beta LysMSmith. Thank you for always being my sounding board.


End file.
